


I Like My Body

by damnfancyscotch



Series: TW Femslash '15 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Body Swap AU, Bullying, Developing Friendships, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Magical Accidents, Magical Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnfancyscotch/pseuds/damnfancyscotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia groans, pressing a hand to her throbbing skull, waiting for her healing to kick in. “What… what’s going on?” She clamps her mouth shut. Those are her words but… it’s not her voice saying them. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it sounds like… “Lydia?”</p><p>“Son of a <em>bitch</em>,” someone snaps succinctly in a voice that sounds like hers is supposed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like My Body

**Author's Note:**

> Day Four of the TW Femslash Fic Rec - Body Swap - this should have been posted Wednesday! Yay! 
> 
> RULES MEAN NOTHING TO ME!!!!
> 
> ♡

She opens her eyes, though she sort of wishes she’d remained passed out when being conscious is immediately followed by pain all over her body, specifically her head. It’s pitch black in the room and she can’t see a damn thing, though she hears rustling nearby.

Malia groans, pressing a hand to her throbbing skull. “What… what’s going on?” She clamps her mouth shut. Those are her words but… it’s not her voice saying them. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it sounds like… “Lydia?”

“Son of a _bitch,_ ” someone snaps succinctly in a voice that sounds like hers is supposed to.

“What’s going on?” she asks, still sounding like Lydia.

There’s a heavy sigh and then long fingers are pressed to her arm. They tighten around her wrist, suddenly tiny and delicate feeling, and tug a little. “Come on.” It sounds like it’s her talking, sounds like her voice but…

They stumble to their feet and take a few steps to the left. There’s the sound of a doorknob turning and a bright burst of light leaves Malia blinking spots from her vision. When she’s able to fully open her eyes, she blinks into her own face. She reaches out to touch it and sees that her hand is pale, porcelain colored and small. She turns it over, staring at the palm, a small scar by the base of her thumb. She doesn’t have any scars on her hands…

“So,” Lydia – but also not Lydia because she sounds like _Malia_ – says, “I think the spell’s been bungled.”

“ _What_ spell?” Malia growls, but it sounds pitiful compared to what she’s normally able to do.

Lydia ducks her head, scratching at her – Malia’s – cheek. “The spell that I was _maybe_ working on with Stiles? It’s to help him and Scott be able to switch places during the skateboard competition that’s coming up. We tried it out and it worked fine. We switched back almost instantly once it was broken.”

Malia takes a deep breath. “First of all,” she starts, “I am appalled that you were helping them cheat and didn’t tell me because I would have helped you, _without_ magic.” She puts up another pale finger. “Second of all, what are you doing playing with spells? You are _not_ a witch. Third, and most importantly, what the fuck am _I_ doing in _your_ body?”

"It's a remarkably simple spell, honestly." Lydia purses her lips, leaning against the wall. “My guess is that since Stiles and I did it first, there must be some of my essence still tied up in it somewhere, even though I told him to double check the ingredients.” She pulls at her lower lips and mumbles thoughtfully, “The candle maybe.”

“Still not answering my question, Lydia,” Malia snaps.

She rolls her eyes. “If I had to guess, I’d say that the focus items got mixed up. We need to go check with Stiles. If it didn’t work, then he’ll still be him. If it did work, then he should be Scott and vise versa.”

“Sometimes I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Malia sighs, though she does, and she sort of maybe kind of wishes they were a little more than that.

Lydia laughs and reaches into her dark bedroom, snagging their phones and her shoes, shoving things into Malia’s hands. “You know why.” _Oh_ _god_. “Let’s go.”

Malia scowls, tugging flat sandals onto her small feet, and follows her friend, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind.

\-----

_The first week of the second semester of freshman year, someone settled quietly into the seat next to Malia’s, rather than flopping down like Stiles always did. When she turned, the last person she expected to see was Lydia Martin._

_The werecoyote stared at the newly-proclaimed banshee in shock, not blinking, long enough that the red-head turned and snapped, “What the hell are you staring at?”_

_“Are you lost?” she had asked, not really trying to be a dick or anything, but Lydia Martin did_ not _deign to lower herself to sit anywhere else other than with the in-crowd, which she ruled over with an iron, manicured fist. Malia figured that since now everyone knew the pretty girl was a Super, the entitled bullshit would just be even worse._

_“No.” Lydia opened her book to the page number written on the board and started reading it, acting as if Malia no longer existed. Familiar territory._

_“Okay…” Malia muttered, looking back at her own book._

_When Stiles and Scott made their jangling, discordant way into the room, they pulled up short at the sight of who was sitting next to her. It was just the three of them in English – the rest of the pack in different classes for second period – and they had commandeered the back corner of the room the first day._

_They gave her confused looks to which she just shrugged, eyebrows raised, communicating that she was just as confused as they were. Scott moved first, sliding into the seat behind Malia’s. Stiles glared at the side of the banshee’s head, settling into the seat behind her._

_“That’s my seat,” he grumbled under his breath, irises flaring honey-gold with his irritation and his spark._

_Apparently banshees had better hearing than they expected because they all jumped when she said, “I’ll switch if it really means that fucking much to you, Stilinski.”_

_The three of them shared another look, this time mildly impressed. They’d never heard the banshee really curse before. It sent a particularly strong thrill through Malia._

_“The energy’s better there,” Stiles explained, less angrily this time. “It helps me focus on the lesson.”_

_Lydia nodded, standing and holding her hand out to the seat. She grabbed her book and her bag, sliding into the desk that Stiles vacated, watching as the spark settled into his seat and let out a soft sigh._

_“So, what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Lydia?” Scott asked, twirling his pencil between his fingers._

_Lydia scowled, looking like she was about to tell them to fuck off, when, from the front of the room, Jackson Whittemore made a comment about being an expert on how to make a girl_ really _scream. It could have been innocent but the way Lydia flinched and dropped her eyes made it clear that it wasn’t._

_“Never mind,” Scott growled, setting his pencil down sharply. He gave Lydia a bright, welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys. We’re all incredibly strange and sometimes we accidentally throw each other through walls.”_

_“We’re all unreasonably attractive and eat pizza together every Saturday night,” Stiles added, turning around in his seat with a grin, tugging a little at his bird-nest-mess hair._

_Malia rolled her eyes and said straight-forwardly, “You’re one of us now. Deal with it. You can meet our Alpha after school.”_

_Lydia said, “Okay.”_

_From then on, she was pack and that was that._

\-----

“Hey Lyds,” Stiles chirps distractedly as he opens his front door. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you because I think there’s something wrong with the spell.”

“I’m Malia,” she announces, pushing past him with a rough shove that puts his back against the door.

“Oh shit.” He looks at Lydia. “You’re Lydia, aren’t you?”

Lydia takes a deep breath, then hisses, “Lavender! I _told_ you not to use the candle that I burned. It’s tied to me, Stiles; I touched it with intent! You should have gotten another one!”

“I did! I didn’t even realize it was yours! They look exactly the same! And I couldn’t find the one I got for Scott so I used a different one.”

“The pine one that I left here?” Lydia asks.

“Yeah.”

“That was for Malia’s birthday, you idiot. I told you that when I bought it!” Lydia almost shouts, and _there it is_ , that’s why they’re the ones that got switched and not Scott and Stiles.

Stiles perks up, rather than wilting at her insult. “That must mean I didn’t fuck up. I did the spell right by myself! Scott,” he calls up the stairs, “it _does_ work, there was just something wrong with the fucking candles!”

Scott cheers from Stiles’ bedroom and Lydia makes an exasperated noise, throwing her hands into the air. The two of them devolve into the bickering that comprises about 75% of their friendship, Lydia insulting his intelligence and Stiles calling her obnoxious and a know-it-all.

Malia doesn’t get the spark/magic stuff, doesn’t often question it since it doesn’t really have anything to do with her. The only exposure she has to it are the magical members of their pack and the coven of witches the next town over that do the light show every year for the fourth of July.

“We need to fix this,” she interrupts, making them turn to her. It’s so bizarre to see her face but not as her face. _Ugh_. “I have to meet my dad’s new girlfriend tomorrow night. He’s not around enough to know me that well but he will _definitely_ know it’s not me inside that body.” She points at where Lydia is standing like _Lydia_ , hand on her hip and looking not at all like Malia.

Stiles winces. “About that…”

“Stiles.” Malia’s hands ball into fists.

“I can fix it! I _can_. We broke it before just fine. It’s just…” He waves his hand toward the stairs. “I don’t have any more anise left. I have to order some.”

“Oh my god,” Lydia groans. “When can it be here?”

“Well,” the spark glances at his watch, because he’s one of the few people she knows that actually still wears one, “it’s before five so I can get it here by tomorrow. If my Amazon grower has any available.”

“He had better have some or I will kill him and strangle you with his entrails,” Lydia growls, eyes flashing blue, as she herds Stiles toward the stairs. “Order it, _now_.”

“She, actually,” Stiles corrects but he swallows at Lydia’s growl, waving his hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, not important. Let’s go, let’s order the _hell_ out of that anise.”

Lydia meets Malia’s gaze and they roll their eyes at the same time before following Stiles up the stairs.

\-----

“You should sleep over here tonight,” Lydia says as she reclines on her bed a few hours later. They’d had to replace the bulb in the overhead fan, since it burst when they switched places, and it’s quite bright, casting a shadow from Lydia’s foot onto the floor next to the bed

Malia sighs, sprawled across the bean bag that she normally sits in, and notices that this body doesn’t fit as well in the slumpy bag as hers does. “It’s probably better. We’re lucky it’s summer time otherwise we’d have to tell Laura and I don’t want her to find out about this yet or she’ll revoke Stiles’ magic privileges again.”

“No one wants to live through that more than once,” Lydia agrees, most likely remembering what Malia is: Stiles sulking and whining for a week and making the rest of the pack utterly miserable, even though he had no real magic that needed to be done anyway.

They settle into silence, Malia staring at the ceiling while Lydia does something on her bed. Malia’s eyes start to drift shut, exhaustion pulling at her.

“I have to pee,” Lydia pipes up after a while, making Malia’s eyes pop open.

She sits up enough to look Lydia. “Uh… I don’t know what to say.”

Lydia shifts uncomfortably, scowling. “I was hoping the spell would be broken by the time anything like this happened.”

Now that the other girl has mentioned it, Malia has to go too. “Fuck.” She scrubs at her face, heaving a sigh. “Well now _I_ have to go.”

“You should go first,” Lydia states, jerking her head toward the door.

“Okay. I’ll… do that.” She pulls herself awkwardly from the bean bag, lacking the natural grace that her real body has. She walks out of the room and to the bathroom.

She stares at the toilet for a solid five minutes, unable to take the last step and actually pee, even though her bladder is insisting that she should. It finally takes Lydia banging on the door and saying, “Come on, it’s not weird. I’ve peed in front of you before.”

“As _yourself_ and I didn't have to help you wipe!” Malia insists.

Lydia growls. “Just do it, okay? I’m giving you permission or whatever. Seriously, I’m about to pee myself, er, yourself. Oh my god I can’t wait til this is over…”

Malia sighs and gets it over with, squeezing her eyes shut and wrapping her hand in about a million layers of toilet paper. Without _seeing_ a different body, it’s actually not that different from going to the bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night. She flushes and nods to herself, feeling oddly proud of herself.

She washes her hands and opens the door, shooting Lydia a thumbs up. The other girl rolls her eyes and moves into the bathroom, shutting the door hard in her haste.

When she gets back into the bedroom, she grabs some pajamas from Lydia’s drawers, avoiding the sweatpants she normally borrows, since they’ll be too long for this body. She shuts her eyes again and swiftly changes into a t-shirt and soft cotton pants.

When she turns around, Lydia is standing in the doorway with a curious look on her face.

“What?”

Lydia shakes her head, moving into the room. “Nothing. Just strange to watch myself undress.”

Malia huffs, feeling so very uncomfortable, and says, “Well, it’s not an experience I’d like to have so I’m gonna crash now before you start stripping.” She hops into the bed on her regular side and turns onto her stomach, shoving her face in the pillow and catching the comforting smell of her conditioner there, trying not to think of Lydia undressing her because, with Malia’s borrowed senses, she can now smell desire, though she might not know what it is.

Lydia laughs and moves around, presumably getting changed before sliding into the bed next to her.

Malia tries to listen for the sounds of night time, like she always does before she falls asleep, but Lydia’s ears aren’t nearly as sharp as hers. She can barely make out the chirp of crickets. She misses the steady sound of Lydia’s heartbeat next to her. She tries to inhale slowly, gathering scents but it’s the same disappointing result. She sighs and turns over on her back in the darkened room.

She’s not used to not being able to smell Lydia either. She _can_ smell her now, of course, because she technically _is_ Lydia, so the sweetness of her shampoo is easily caught in the cloud of red hair next to her face, the remnants of her perfume still strong enough to recognize as it wafts from her collarbones. It’s normally _more_ , though, and mingled so beautifully with her own scent that’s imprinted on this side of the bed and in various places in the room.

“You always think so _loudly_. Go to sleep,” Lydia mumbles. “We’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Back to normal where she wishes she didn’t have to close her eyes at the sight of Lydia’s undressed body and that when Lydia’s hands were on her hips, they weren’t technically _her_ hands…

Eventually, she manages to shut her brain up, turns on her side, and passes out.

\-----

The next day, the doorbell doesn’t ring until almost five o’clock.

Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Malia almost make the delivery guy have a heart attack when they all meet him at the door, but Malia has to meet Peter at six thirty and Lydia has been oddly withdrawn, snapping at them most of the day while they played video games to pass the time.

The guy warbles nervously, “I… I have a delivery for-”

Stiles puts a hand up. “No need to continue. That’s me. Do I need to sign anything?”

“Uh, no. Here.” He shoves the package into Stiles’ hands and bolts back to his truck.

Stiles slams the door and tears into the package, inspecting the contents. “Perfect, as always, Morell.” He looks at the girls and Scott. “Come on, let’s break this spell!”

“You sound far too excited about this,” Malia grumbles.

“Psh, this is cool stuff, okay? It’s not my fault you can’t fathom the awesomeness of it.”

“I _will_ murder you,” Lydia assures him with a smile. “Quite happily.”

“Yeah yeah,” he says, completely at ease after being exposed to her temper all day.

They go up the stairs and Stiles drops to his knees in the middle of his room, arranging the things there in a specific layout. He hands them both candles, the original lavender one for Lydia and the pine one that was supposed to be for her birthday to Malia.

“Alright, you,” he points to Lydia, “sit there. And you,” Malia, “sit there.”

They do as they’re instructed, settling with their legs crossed as Scott perches on the bed and looks over everything curiously, eating from a bag of hot Cheetos.

“Give me one,” Stiles instructs his friend and Scott pops one into his mouth for him. “Okay,” Stiles says through a mouth full of the snack, “I need you guys to focus on the candles, put your intent to return to your body into them.”

“I feel like this is a little slip-shod,” Lydia grumbles, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I believe in you,” Malia tells Stiles.

“Thank you,” he smiles.

She smirks back. “Mostly because Laura will be pissed if you fuck this up.”

He scowls and hisses, “Just close your eyes and think ‘there’s no place like home’. Also, shut up.”

She does as he says, the smirk dropping off her lips as she focuses on her own body, the length of her hair and the way the earth feels under her feet and her paws and the way things smell and how her body is settled when she’s around her pack and…

She wakes in a dark room to the sound of Stiles cursing and whimpering. She sits up and throws her arm in front of her face when Scott whips back the curtain covering the window, letting sunlight brighten the room.

She looks over and sees Lydia pushing herself upright, letting out a small groan.

She blurts out, “It worked.” She almost can’t believe it as she looks at her own hands, flexing them.

“Damn right it fucking worked!” Stiles crows, accepting the high five that Scott holds out to him.

“Great job, bro.” Scott looks at the spell materials. “This is gonna be so cool.”

“Oh my god, I know! I can’t wait to be able to go werewolf!”

Malia rolls her eyes at the two of them while they chatter excitedly, catching sight of the digital clock on Stiles’ bedside table. “I gotta go.” She looks at where Lydia is staring at her hands too. “You okay?”

Lydia looks up, giving her a weak smile. “Yeah. Go, try not to kill Peter where there will be witnesses.”

Malia grins and stands, stretching her arms over her head. “I’ll do my best.” She tells the guys, “See you later. Have fun being each other.”

“We will!” they chorus, grinning at each other.

She leaves, hopping down the stairs and setting off for the house at a jog. If she pushes, she might only be fifteen minutes late instead of a half hour. It’s exhilarating, being able to smell and hear the way she’s used to, and she grins the whole way home.

\-----

“Hey.”

Malia looks up from where she’s putting her nice sweater back on its hanger. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. How was dinner?” Lydia asks as she steps into the room.

“Annoying,” Malia answers. The banshee chuckles. “Peter was his usual smarmy self. Angela seems nice though.”

“Poor woman.”

She laughs. “Exactly.” She glances toward her window, open to the dark night, crickets trilling soothingly. “You’re here late. Your mom still out of town?”

“Yeah,” Lydia replies easily, seemingly not bothered. “She’ll be back in the morning.”

“Cool.”

They fall into an easy silence. After a bit, Lydia says, “So I was thinking, maybe it was a good thing that we switched bodies.”

“Really?” Malia gives her a strange look as the red-head stops her inspection of the small bookshelf in the corner – it’s not like she’s unfamiliar with what’s on it, she’s been in Malia’s room countless times over the past few years – and starts walking closer.

“Yeah. It’s given me an interesting perspective on some things.”

Malia raises an eyebrow as she wads up her pants, tossing them into the hamper. “Like what?” She turns and finds Lydia so close they’re practically pressed chest to chest.

“ _I like your body…_ ” Lydia recites softly, running her hands down Malia’s arms. “ _I like what it does… I like its hows…”_ She reaches Malia’s hands and pulls them to rest on her hips.

Malia recognizes the poem, has liked it since she first heard it in English class, the one she shared with Lydia, and manages to haltingly deliver the next lines through her suddenly dry lips, “ _I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones._ ” She taps her fingers against Lydia’s lower back, pressing gently against her spine.

Lydia seems pleased that Malia’s playing along, tracing her hands back up to rest on her shoulders with a smile. “ _And the trembling firm-smoothness and which I will again and again and again kiss…_ ”

Malia licks her lips without thinking about it. “Kiss?”

Lydia nods, pulling them closer together. “Kiss.”

And they do, their mouths meeting in a soft press as Malia leans down to reach Lydia’s mouth, their breath mingling as they both slowly exhale through their noses. When they pull back, Malia can smell the most beautiful mix of Lydia’s shampoo and perfume and desire.

“I have to disagree with you,” she murmurs, leaning in to run her nose along the curve of Lydia’s neck. “I’m glad we switched back”

Lydia tips her head back, settling her hands in Malia’s hair. “Mm… any reason in particular other than the obvious?"

“I couldn’t smell you anymore…” She tries not to sound sulky, but it’s hard. “I could barely hear anything and I could only smell you a little bit and it was on _me_ and it was driving me crazy.”

“You like how I smell.”

It’s not a question but she nods anyway. “I do. A lot.”

Lydia hums. “How long have you liked me?”

“Who says I like you?” She grins when Lydia swats her arm. “Since the summer after freshman year, when you spent a month at the house.” She bites softly at the junction of the banshee’s jaw, enjoying the way the fingers in her hair tighten. “When did you start liking me?”

“The day after you introduced me to Laura, when you walked me to class.”

Malia pulls back, shocked. “Are you serious?”

Lydia nods, cheeks pinking up. “Well, yeah…”

“So we could have been making out for the past two years and _you never said anything?_ ”

“Oh no, you’re not pinning this entirely on me!” Lydia warns her, pulling away. “ _You_ could have said something.”

She snorts. “Right! Like _the_ Lydia Martin, the hottest girl in the whole school, was going to want the weird coyote girl.”

Lydia narrows her eyes, torso tensing right before she jumps forward. Malia catches her easily but she steps back on a paperback lying on the floor and falls backwards onto the bed with an, “Oof!”

Lydia cackles, tossing her hair in a fiery wave, and puts her hands on the bed on either side of Malia’s head. “You should know, _coyote girl_ , that I thought then, and still think, that you are one of the most interesting and intelligent people I have ever met. You’re also incredibly kind, underneath the growling bitchiness, and you have the most killer legs I’ve ever seen.”

Malia reels her in for another kiss, tangling her hand in that mane of hair, like she’s wanted to for a long time.

Lydia pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips, “ _And possibly I like the thrill, of under me you quite so new…_ ”

“You’re such a dork,” she huffs as she rolls them over, pressing another kiss to the banshee’s grinning mouth. “But, I can agree that _I like kissing this and that of you_.”

Lydia snorts and hits her with a pillow. “Nerd.”

“Learned from the best.” Malia kisses her.

_Again and again and again…_

\-----

_The next morning, the pack waited for Lydia’s mother’s small silver car to pull up into the parking lot._

_When it did and Lydia got out, Scott called out to her. “Hey! Lydia, over here!”_

_The red-head smiled and walked toward their group, floral dress looking bright against her black jacket and stockings. Her tall red shoes brought her to the same height as Scott when she drew up next to them. “Morning.”_

_“Morning,” everyone greeted._

_“We wanted to scent you before the day started, to affirm the bonds and let the other Supers know you’re part of the pack,” Scott told her with his crooked grin._

_“If that’s okay with you,” Kira added, her smile straighter, but just as kind._

_Lydia nodded. “Sure. What do you have to do?”_

_“Well I’m gonna hug you, if that’s good with you,” Scott informed her._

_Stiles assured her, “Everyone needs a hug from Scott. They’re almost magical.”_

_Scott stepped closer and put his arms around her, pressing his cheek to hers before pulling back. “Okay?”_

_She nodded, a smile curving her red lips. “You weren’t kidding,” she told Stiles, “that was pretty amazing.”_

_“Right?” Stiles exclaimed, getting a hug from Scott himself._

_Lydia laughed and looked around the group. “Who’s next?”_

_Everyone else hugged the banshee, or touched her on the shoulder in Danny’s case since his incubus status limited his ability to be platonically affectionate, and ignored the curious stares of the other students around them, though they were aware of the attention they were drawing. They wanted_ everyone _to know that Lydia was one of them now, not just the other Supers._

_When the banshee smelled as fully of pack as they could get her without Laura, Derek, and Cora’s scents, everyone split off to go to their first classes. Malia, who had Environmental Science on the same hall as Lydia’s first period AP Biology class, jerked her head toward the doors._

_“Come on, Dork,” she said with a smile, “I’m walking you to class.”_

_She tilted her head, intrigued by the flush of pink in the banshee’s cheeks as she said, “Okay.”_

_They walked past Jackson Whittemore and his group of assholes, both girls smiling and chatting openly about the pack’s plans for the upcoming Saturday, debating what the best movie to watch would be and what kind of pizza Lydia liked._

_Malia_ particularly _enjoyed the way that Jackson’s scent soured with envious anger._

_When they arrived at her classroom, Lydia turned and said, “Thank you for that. I… thanks.”_

_“Yeah, of course. That’s how it works.” Malia nudged the girl’s shoulder with her elbow. “You’re_ ours _now.”_

_Lydia’s lips curved in a smile. “Good.” She ducked her chin, looking up under her long lashes. “I’ll see you after class?”_

_Malia grinned at her and nodded. “I’ll save you a seat.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty good, right, even though it's late and stuff?! Please excuse any mistakes b/c I have to run - there's something I gotta get to in like a half hour and I haven't even put my face on yet. AH!
> 
> The poem the girls recite is called "i like my body" by e.e. cummings and it's one of my favorites - maybe you've heard of it? :)
> 
> Let me know what you think! :D
> 
> kisskiss  
> ♡ Scotch


End file.
